


'Til Kingdom Come

by PirateOwl



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: 5.08, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Underworld, which should be its own set of warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-02 12:18:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5248025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PirateOwl/pseuds/PirateOwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the reveal from 5.08, Killian struggles to fend off his extra darkness and find an alternative to cold blooded murder in order to get rid of the curse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My Time Has Come

**Chapter 1: My Time Has Come**

Killian stands at the helm of the Jolly Roger for hours and watches the sun rise over the water, wishing the darkness in his soul, in Emma’s soul, was so easily dispersed.

“I’d have died to save you, Emma,” he whispers aloud to the empty sky. “To save both of us. Why couldn’t you let me?”

He looks down at the tattoo on his arm, a reminder of the first love he had lost to the Dark One. A reminder not to let the darkness win. And his eyes linger on the rings, a reminder of the darkness he had so long wallowed in.

“You know,” a familiar hated voice says. He spins, seeing the Crocodile, scales and all, standing on the deck of his ship. “If you had succeeded in your vengeance, this would have happened anyway. It’s not like she did anything you didn’t spend three hundred years trying to do to yourself.”

Killian laughs hollowly, a sound completely devoid of mirth. “The collected minds of all the Dark Ones ever, and they send  _you_  to tempt me? Three hundred years of hating you is the only strength I have right now so go away and bother someone else.” Vindictively, he realized he means  _go bother Swan. This is her fault anyway._

“You could have saved her,” the Crocodile says with a giggle.

“Who? I could have used your unholy magic to save Milah? Maybe if I was feeling particularly cruel I could have inflicted this same half-life on her. Or, if I had killed you like I meant to, if Emma hadn’t been trying to save your worthless hide, she would never have become the Dark One and it would just be me? She would still be the Savior. Because if you’re here to taunt me with what might have been, ‘ _Dearie_ ’, I’m perfectly capable of that without your assistance.”

“Are you coming home?” She appears on the deck of the ship with ease, snapping his attention away from the Crocodile, reveling in her powers.  _His powers too._  The thought nags at the back of his mind. He had never had magic of his own before but he can feel the power humming through him, begging to be used.

“That house,” he says, keeping his voice even, “is not my home. It’s not your home either. It was supposed to be, but it’s not.”

“I know you’re upset…” she starts.

“Upset? Why ever would I be upset? I tried so hard to help you. And this… this is how you thank me? By infecting me with the darkness I tried so hard to destroy. By making me the very thing I have hated my whole life.”

“You tried so hard to help me. I couldn’t let you die.”

“You should have!” he shouts. “And I hope it was you, Dark One, and not Emma who made that call because she  _knew_  how hard I had fought against the darkness. How hard I fought against  _you_.”

“So now you are back to not accepting me?” she asks. “To not loving me? You are just _like_  me.”

“You obviously don’t love  _me_. This darkness is not something you inflict on someone you love. And no. I am  _not_  like you. I haven’t embraced it.”

“Don’t you see? I was trying to save you.”

“With cold blooded murder? Can’t you see how much the darkness has twisted everything that Emma was?”

“I was trying to protect you. But now that you know the truth we can fight it together.” She smiles, the expression twisted and cold on the Dark Swan’s face.

“You don’t want to fight it. I spent long enough wallowing in the darkness to recognize someone else in that position. But what I said in the house the first time still stands. This isn’t me. Maybe it will be someday. Maybe I was right and I won’t have the strength to fight back against the darkness a second time. But that doesn’t mean I won’t fight it with everything I have.” He turns his back on her, walking toward the gangplank, leaving her behind.

He steps on to the docks and she appears in front of him in another swirl of smoke. “Stay away from me!” he snaps. A wave of magic knocks her aside. “ _No!_ ” he says, staring down at his hand in horror.

“Well done, Dearie,” the Crocodile says, clapping. “Looks like you’re a natural.”

“I’m not you,” he snarls, then turns and runs.

“Planning on outrunning me, Dearie?” the Crocodile asks, jogging alongside him.

“If you’re going to look like him, at least have the limp so I can outrun you.”

“But he didn’t, not as the Dark One. I… well, he used his magic, your magic, to heal himself, to be whole. You could do the same.”

“I paid a steep price to be rid of that accursed hand and the darkness it brought with it. I’m certainly not going to surrender to the darkness to get it back.”

* * *

He considers not telling anyone. He can figure this out on his own, not burden anyone else with what Emma has done. But he knows that he needs to warn them so they know better than to trust him. And it isn’t just about them either. He needs someone to know because he needs people watching him, he needs someone to notice if he starts to slip further back into the darkness.

“I know what she did in Camelot,” he says without preamble as he steps into the sheriff’s station. He lays out the whole tale without embellishments, without attempt to shield either Emma or himself from their disapproval.

“What was she thinking?” Snow demands.

“I don’t know. She should have let me go, not turned me into  _this_.”

“She was thinking basically what everybody else here has at some point,” Henry points out. “That love is worth fighting for.” He hugs Killian. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“I’m not,” he admits, his voice near breaking. “Because I would rather die than go back to being a villain.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Snow says.

“You’ve been a villain before,” Henry points out, as though it really is not a big deal.

“Aye. And you have no idea what I was like during that time, and I pray you never find out. Villain isn’t just a title, Lad.”

Henry nods, frowning. “But the fact that you feel that way just proves you aren’t one anymore.”

“Perhaps not now, but it only took three weeks for Emma, for the Savior, to become the Dark One. How long do you think it will take me?”

“You could protect them from her,” the voice in his head says. “You have the same magic that she does now.”

“But who protects them from me,” he snarls, before remembering that the others can’t hear the voice.

“Mom’s voice?” Henry asks. “I mean, you said she was…” he frowns “presumably still is I guess, hearing the voice of the previous Dark One.”

“Actually Rumplestiltskin,” Killian says.

“Really?” David asks. “Not who I would send to talk you into something.”

“But exactly who to send to bring out the worst in me,” he mutters darkly.

There is a long silence as everyone processes the realization.

“Is Mom a villain?” Henry asks very quietly, but it breaks the heavy silence hanging around the room as thoroughly as if he had shouted. “Like, really a villain, not just the title?”

He thinks about saying  _of course. A hero wouldn’t have done this to me. A hero doesn’t drag someone into the darkness against their will_. But he doesn’t want to hurt Henry for the sins of his mother.

“Of course you do, Dearie. You’re the Dark One now. You want to hurt them all. You can’t hurt Emma, you can’t hurt me, so of course you want to lash out at them.”

Killian clenches his jaw. “I don’t know, Lad. Maybe. She’s… lost in the dark.” He runs his thumb over the cold metal of his rings, trying to remind himself that all sins can be forgiven, even Emma’s. “And even if she is, just remember so was Regina not so very long ago. And so was your other grandfather. Emma can still come back, if she decides to.”

“Sounds like you could use with the same reminder yourself, Killian,” David says, clapping him on the back. He freezes. The prince has never called him by his given name before. But now, teetering on the edge of darkness, is when he chooses to do so. One more thing to fight for.

“Aye. Perhaps,” he admits with a tight smile.

“What did you say we called the operation in Camelot?” Henry asks.

“Operation Light Swan.”

Henry wrinkles his nose in thought for a moment. “It needs a name change because it isn’t just about Mom. It’s about both of you. You don’t happen to have any animal connections by any chance? A piratical pet? A family crest?”

“No family crest, Lad, and the monkey sounded like a good idea but it took to attacking the crew.”

“Okay. Well then, I guess Operation Light Captain Swan is a go.”

“Do we actually have a plan?” Snow asks.

“I’ve been working on it for thirty seconds,” Henry says reasonably. “Give me a little time to think of something.”

And maybe it won’t be enough, but damned if Killian isn’t going to fight his absolute hardest to make sure it works. For Henry’s sake, if nothing else. It’s been a long time since he had people willing to fight for him.

“Damned regardless, Dearie,” the voice in his head whispers. “Thanks to Emma Swan.”

He swings his hook toward the form of Rumplestiltskin without thinking. He realizes his terrible mistake almost instantly as the hook swings point first toward Henry. He raises his other hand and knocks the lad aside with a burst of magic, the first time he has willingly used it, protecting the boy from himself. It feels terrifyingly good, using the power her now wields. He suddenly understands why so many who wield magic become mad with power. If it always feels that amazing, of course they do. He wonders how Emma ever wanted to get rid of hers.

Then what he has done, and what he almost did, catch up to him.

“Henry, I’m… I’m sorry, Lad. I didn’t mean…” He turns and runs, out of the sheriff’s station, away from everyone he might hurt with his magic.

“Killian, wait!” Henry calls after him.

He doesn’t stop running until he reaches the docks. He can hardly breathe, panic welling up in him for what he almost did to Henry. Furious with Emma, and more so with himself, he wrenches off the hook and heaves it as far as he can out into the waves. Perhaps a little magic makes it fly a little further, but he tries to tell himself that was a onetime thing. He drops to his knees, trying to catch his breath, his labored breathing breaking finally into sobs.

“What did you do to me, Swan?” he asks aloud. “I almost hurt Henry. I couldn’t have lived with that. Neither could you. But you had to go and make sure I was immortal, so I’d have had to. Forever.”

He waits for the ocean to calm him for a long time before realizing that the darkness staining his soul is, for the first time in his life, beyond the soothing reach of the ocean waves.

* * *

That afternoon, after word has a chance to spread a bit, he goes to Gold’s Pawn Shop to speak to the town’s expert on the Dark One.

“It doesn’t hurt that you wouldn’t mind him ending up dead,” the Crocodile giggled in his ear. He tries to ignore the voice.

The Croc… no, the man before him is definitely Rumplestiltskin, moves to slip out the back.

“Uh, uh, uh,” Killian admonishes him. “You aren’t going anywhere.” His hand is half raised to use magic to cut off his possible escape. His eyes land on Belle and for one brief, horrible moment he considers using his new magic on her, plunging his hand into her chest, crushing her heart while the man who loves her is forced to watch. He forces his hand to his side, his fist clenched so tightly that his nails dig into his palm. “Belle, you should go,” he says, his voice strained.

“I’m not going anywhere. If you’re here to hurt Rumple…”

“If I was here to hurt him, I would kill you,” he says, with desperate honesty. “You’ve been far kinder to me than I deserve and I can’t risk hurting you again to get to him. Please, just go.”

“Belle, please, he’s right. You have to get out of here.”

“Rumple, I can’t just abandon you to him. And as for you,” she says, turning on Killian, “We’re friends. You aren’t going to hurt me.”

“Do you still have a scar?” Killian asks, his voice strained. “From where I shot you? Do you have a scar?”

“A little,” Belle says evenly. “Most of it faded when Rumple healed me.”

“With magic he no longer possess. I told you what happened to Milah. You don’t have to worry about me killing Rumplestiltskin. As long as you are safe from me, so is he.”

Belle considers for a moment, then nods. “You promise?”

“Are you sure ‘I’ll kill you before I kill your husband who I’ve hated for centuries’ is really a promise you want me to make, Lass?”

“Yes, it is. Because you and I are friends. I don’t think you’re going to hurt me. Not now.”

“Not this instant. But it might not always be enough.”

“I believe it will be. So promise me.”

“I can’t do that, Belle. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Belle, please,” Rumplestiltskin says.

“What you mean is you  _do_  want to hurt Rumple,” she says, ignoring Rumple’s plea. She stalks toward Killian angrily and he steps back, not trusting himself around her. She doen’t give him that option and kept stalking forward until he is backed against the counter and she is standing well inside arm’s length. “What you mean is that you want an out, where it’s okay for you to embrace the darkness because the people you pick and choose to care about get to stay safe. It doesn’t work like that. You’re a hero now and I refuse to accept you giving that up for a chance at revenge. The darkness hurts everyone, even the people, maybe even especially the people closest to you. Take it from someone who knows. Or are you under the illusion that your friendship is more powerful somehow than Rumple’s love for me? Promise me, and don’t give yourself permission to give in to the darkness.”

“I promise,” he says.

“Thank you. I’ll let you two talk.” She rests a hand on her husband’s shoulder as she walks passed him. “I know you don’t like Killian, but do  _try_  to remember that our lives may depend on you helping him.” With that, she heads out of the shop, leaving the two old enemies alone together.

“I need your help, Crocodile.”

“Crocodile?” Rumplestiltskin asks. “Careful, you’re much more at risk of being the Crocodile now than I am, Pirate.”

“Now is not a good time to test me, Rumplestiltskin,” Killian nearly snarls.  “And you _really_  don’t want me to be the pirate right now,  _Mate_.”

“True,” Rumplestiltskin admits. “You came to me for a reason, and I assume it wasn’t to trade barbs.”

“You know more about the Dark One than anyone alive. I was hoping you might know some way to… stop being the Dark One, or at least to resist the darkness better.”

“I’m hardly an expert on resisting the darkness, Dearie,” Rumplestiltskin points out. “And I’ve never heard of someone just stopping being the Dark One. True Love’s Kiss would do it, but the afflicted would have to believe it was a curse, and you can’t both be under it.”

“I know all that already!” Killian snapped.

“I know, but we need to go over every possibility.” Rumplestiltskin’s tone is calm and reasonable, almost painfully so, exactly the way it might be when attempting to calm a wounded animal.

“Aye,” Killian says, forcing himself to calm down.

“You could always use magic to get your hook back, and plunge it in his neck,” the Crocodile says. “It would be easy now, and I know you wanted in for a long time. Of course I do. I’m you.”

“That’s not why I’m here!” he snaps to the voice over his shoulder.

“That would be Zoso,” Rumplestiltskin says in the same calm tone, though Killian can see the fear in his eyes even so.

“Actually, it’s you. Which is terrible planning if you ask me.”

“Strangely enough, Dark Ones are often inducted by the people they have stabbed.”

“Don’t give me ideas,” Killian snarls, advancing on Rumplestiltskin.

The chime on the door rings.

“I thought I turned that to ‘Closed’,” Killian comments, turning to face the intruder.

“Ah yes, Storybrooke’s inability to read that sign. A plague on all Dark Ones I fear,” Rumplestiltskin says mildly, emboldened by witnesses.

David, Snow, and Regina are standing in the doorway.

“You never went to see Emma now that she’s the Dark One,” Killian says. “I feel special.”

“Let go of Gold,” Regina says.

He looks down and realizes he has his one hand around Rumplestiltskin’s throat. He steps back, forcing his hand to his side.

“Belle said you were here,” David says, in the same tone for speaking to wounded animals and Killian is suddenly reminded that he used to work in an animal shelter because he is much better at it, or possibly more annoying at it, than Rumplestiltskin.

“Aye. That doesn’t explain what you are doing here. I thought you were ignoring the Dark One altogether,” Killian snaps.

“Emma didn’t want to see us,” Snow argues.

“You think I do?”

“You came to see us this morning,” David points out, moving to stand beside Killian, a little bit between him and Rumplestiltskin.

“Do you have a solution now? Because I haven’t seen any solutions from you thus far. I haven’t even seen much work on it. I was just warning you about me.” He knows they are trying to helps, but he also suspects it won’t be enough.

“What do you have so far?” Regina asks. She waves a hand, casting a protection spell to defend against prying ears. Emma could always tear through it, but not without being noticed.

“I don’t know. I know the darkness can be transferred. Hence Swan’s attempt to put all the darkness into Zelena and kill her.”

“Which you stopped her from doing,” Snow says, not sounding certain that he should have done so.

“Would you still stop her, knowing what you do now?” Rumplestiltskin asks.

“Aye. You can’t get rid of darkness by murdering people. I tried that method,” he says, glowering at Rumplestiltskin. “And Zelena wouldn’t be my first choice.”

“We could steal the sword,” Regina suggests. “And if we stole the fire I could use my magic to reforge the dagger. We could take all the darkness and put it in someone we can control.”

“The solution is not to create a slave to the darkness!” Killian snaps, wheeling on her.

“Easy, Hook, we’re just brainstorming,” David says in his placating tone. “Even if you think it’s a bad idea, it could still prompt other ideas.”

Rumplestiltskin clears random items off a large round table in the back sales room and gets assorted chairs for it and they sit down to brainstorm more.

“There’s only one way to get rid of the darkness for good,” Killian says finally. “I think we all know it. It has to go into one person.”

“You aren’t going back to killing Zelena?” Regina asks. She sounds like she is torn between defending her family and volunteering to do the honors herself.

“No. I just need to convince Emma I am doing that so she will give up the darkness willingly.”

“We could take the sword and skip that step,” Snow suggests.

“No. You took the darkness from her once before against her will and we all know how wonderfully  _that_  worked out.” Snow flinches as though he struck her but he presses on, not exactly in a sympathetic mood. “If you simply remove the Dark One and put it in someone else without her giving it up, she stays in the dark, just not as the Dark One.”

“She took away your choice,” Rumplestiltskin says. “Why are you fighting so hard for hers?”

“Because I am  _not_  the Dark One.”

“So you trick her, but it has to be her choice?” David asks.

“Aye. She just needs to willingly give up the darkness. What I do with it after that… well, that part is my choice. And I need help kidnapping your sister without using the Dark One’s magic.”

* * *

He knocks on the door of her house.  _Their_  house, he supposes. It was supposed to be home for both of them. That future looks painfully hollow now.

“You’re back,” she says.

“Aye. It took me some time to appreciate what you did for me, Love,” he says. He forces a smile, ignoring the anger at her that still roils inside of him. The Crocodile’s voice starts suggesting increasingly dark ways to punish her for it.

“But you do now?”

“Aye. And if we get rid of the Darkness, it’s like none of it ever happened.” He dragged his unwilling assistant Zelena with him into the house. He didn’t tell her the plan, so her fear is genuine. “Just one request, Swan. Allow me to do the honors. I’ve been waiting three hundred years for a chance to kill the Dark One.” It makes him ill how appealing that plan is to the darker side of him. And worse, he doesn’t think he can blame all of that on the Dark One.

“It’s only fair,” she agrees with a smile, although, like everything in this house, the smile feels hollow somehow. She hands him Excalibur, careful not to cut him with it.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” he asks her again. “Be rid of the darkness?”

“Yes. I want both of us to be free.”

He holds the sword high, drawing the darkness out of her. He can see in her eyes the moment she is free, the way her eyes widen with horror and she stumbles back from him a step.

“What have I done?” she whispers.

“It’s over, Emma,” he says gently.

She looks between him and Zelena, trying to decide whether to talk him out of killing her. “I was wrong,” she says softly.

“No she wasn’t. Kill her,” the Crocodile urges. “You could always kill them both.”

“I know, Love. That was never the plan.” He cuts Zelena free with Excalibur. “Go,” he tells her. “Before I change my mind.” She waves a hand and vanishes in a swirl of green.

“Then what is the plan? You just took all the darkness. Killian, you just became the only Dark One.”

“It won’t work,” the Crocodile sneers. “You’re still angry with her over the whole ‘didn’t let you die’ thing and she didn’t love you enough to let you go.”

Killian ignores the voice. Of course he is still angry at her. But he loves her too, enough to push aside the hurt and go ahead with the plan.

“Aye. This is the plan,” he says, closing the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her into a kiss. He can feel Emma’s light pushing back the Darkness. He feels as it fades away, the curse broken by the power of True Love. He could swear that some of his own darkness vanished with it.

For the briefest moment he thinks it worked. That somehow, they have escaped the price of magic, that everything is going to be okay. “We’re free, Emma,” he murmurs, relief flooding him.

Then he feels the warm blood and a flash of pain on his neck and realizes this is still the price.  He knew it would be when he began, but for a moment had dared to hope. He stumbles, falling against Emma.

“No!” she says, catching him in her arms and sinking to the ground beneath him. “We’re free. Everything’s supposed to be okay.”

“Aye, my Love,” he says. “We’re free. It’s done.” He hisses in pain, reaching out for her hand to hold. “That doesn’t mean there isn’t a price.”

“You’re not the one who should be paying the price. I was the Dark One, not you. I even tried to make you one too, and it didn’t take.” She takes a sobbing breath. “It’s supposed to be True Love’s Kiss then Happily Ever After. That’s how it goes. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Love. This  _is_  how it’s supposed to be. This is how it was always supposed to be.” He grimaces for a moment, then relaxes against her. It would have been enough for him then, and it’s enough for him now, knowing that she will be free, will be safe from the Darkness, knowing that Henry has his mother back, knowing that they both have a future now, even though he doesn’t get to be part of it.

She whisks them away with her magic, away from the cold house that was meant to be their future, to the Jolly Roger. She knows how much the sea calms him. He wonders distantly if perhaps it calms her too. He hopes so. The swirl of magic is pure white like it is supposed to be.

“I’m so sorry, Killian,” she say.

“I forgive you, Emma. All sins can be forgiven when you’re loved. Remember that.”

She tries to pull away, to go get the first aid kit, to find some way to help him, although they both know it won’t work.

“Don’t,” he gasps. “I don’t have much time.” The pain from the deceptively small wound is nearly blinding but her hand clutching his helps. “Stay with me. Please. I want your face to be the last thing I see.”

She nods and reaches up with one hand to release her hair from the bun she had worn as the Dark Swan. Her other hand remains clasped tightly with his.

“You were wrong,” she says. “You said you were too weak to fight off the darkness again. You’re strong. Stronger than me.”

“I have the easier task.” His breath catches sharply. “It’s okay, Emma.”

“You defeated the darkness, in you, in me. You succeeded.” She tries to smile through her tears, trying to be strong for him this time, like he was for her, like she hadn’t been before. “You defeated the Dark One and there is never going to be another, all because of you.”

The ferryman’s boat appears on the horizon, pulling steadily closer to the Jolly Roger.

“Let me go, Love,” he whispers in her ear. “I love you, Emma.” He gasps in pain again, his hand tighten briefly on hers before falling limp.

“Killian? Killian! Please, no. Come back to me.” She leans over him, kissing him desperately, trying to wake him up. “

Silently and implacably, the ferryman takes him away. She almost fights the ferryman, makes him leave Killian with her, but he asked her to let him go, and she ignored his wishes once before. She knows she can’t do it again.

Then he is gone and Emma is left alone, sobbing on the deck of the Jolly Roger.


	2. The Drummer Begins To Drum

Emma starts to sob, mixed with an almost hysterical laughter.

“Emma, Sweetheart?” he mother asks, stepping into Emma’s room in the loft, over the piles of rejected clothes. Emma couldn’t bring herself to stay in the too big, too empty house, haunted by too many memories and promises unfulfilled. She needs the busyness and familiarity of the loft. And there are other places better than the house if she wants to be alone.

“I don’t have anything black. I was the Dark One a few days ago. I mean, obviously I can’t wear that, but I have nothing else black, nothing that works anyway. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?” And it is. She has never put this much effort or worry into what to wear in her life. Well, maybe the pink dress for her first date with Killian. But she had screwed that up too as the Dark One. ~~  
~~

“You’ve got this,” Mary Margret says, holding out a black coat.

Emma snatches it and holds it up for a moment’s inspection before tossing it on the heap of rejected clothing. “The collar is too high,” she says. “It’s too much like my Dark One coat.”

“What about this sweater? It’s black and has no high collar.”

“Of course not. It’s too low cut,” Emma says reasonably, tossing it back onto the rejected pile. She almost breaks down laughing and sobbing again because she knows Killian would hardly object.

“It’s not about the shirt, is it?” Mary Margret asks.

“Of course it’s not about the shirt,” Emma says. “But it is, it’s about all of them." She waves to the heap of rejected clothing. "Every time I get close to settling on something to wear I keep thinking that Killian wouldn’t want me dressing like the Dark One again. That he gave up too much for me to go back to wearing black. But it’s disrespectful not to wear black to a funeral.” She takes a shuddering breath. “And it doesn’t even matter because he’s not here. And he’s not _going_ to be here. And he was supposed to be the one who wouldn’t leave.”

“I’m sorry,” Mary Margret says quietly, kneeling beside Emma.

“For what? You weren’t the Dark One. If I had been ready to give up the magic soon enough True Love’s Kiss would have worked before it was too late. Killian knew the cost and it _still_ worked when he had the darkness. And I would rather fight with clothes that don’t matter than deal with that.” Emma stares despondently at the mound of clothing beside her.

“Oh, Emma,” he mother whispers. “You _can’t_ put all of that on yourself.”

“Who else can I put it on? _I_ was the Dark One. _I_ was the only reason we were in Camelot in the first place.”

“It’s on us too,” Mary Margret says. “You said we failed you and you were right. We thought things would work themselves out because they always have for us so we just let things play out. And we didn’t see how important Killian was to you,” she admits.

“I only said that because I was the Dark One,” Emma says.

“I know. That doesn’t make it untrue.”

“It does,” Emma says. She snatches up a white sweater to cut off the conversation. “I can’t go back to dressing like the Dark One.” ~~  
~~

“We’ll be downstairs, Sweetheart,” Mary Margret says, leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

Emma stares at herself in the mirror for a long time, still not satisfied. She waves a hand, materializing on the deck of the Jolly Roger. She grabs one of Killian’s long black coats and pulls it on. It must have been made specifically for him because the left sleeve is a little roomier than the right to accommodate the brace for his hook. It’s too large on her, but that doesn’t matter. It smells a little like rum, like the salt spray of the ocean, like him, like home.

She wraps the coat tightly around herself, against the chill of the late March morning and waves her hand again, returning herself instantly to the loft.

* * *

The entire town is at the funeral. Literally. Granny’s is even closed, black drapes pulled over the windows. Some are there because they cared about Killian personally, probably more than he would have expected, and a great deal more are there to show their respects to the man who defeated the Dark One curse once and for all.

“You alright, Mom?” Henry asks.

“I’m fine,” she says, more trying to convince herself of it than Henry. “Are you?”

“You have a _terrible_ dictionary,” Henry says, managing a watery smile. “But by your definition, so am I.”

She nods. It’s true; everyone is working from the same terrible dictionary as they ask if she is alright or promise that everything will be, and she can hear Killian whispering _It’s alright, Emma, it’s alright_. She wants to scream at all of them that no, I’m not alright, it’s not alright, nothing about this is alright. She suspects if she were a little less in shock she might actually do that to the next person who tried.

There was no body. That still bothers Emma. He deserves a proper burial at sea. Still, a monument at the docks is the best they can do. They are in sight of the Jolly Roger and she can see that someone, she suspects Henry, has struck the sails and is flying its namesake flag at half mast.

Emma holds on to the ring he gave her, the ring that was supposed to keep him alive, and wraps his coat around herself more tightly as David and Henry remove the cover from the stone monument.

**Captain Killian “Hook” Jones**

**Pirate, Hero, Friend**

**Greater Love Has No Man Than This**

David takes her arm and leads the way to their seats along the front. He doesn’t ask if she is alright, and doesn’t promise that it will be. She glances over at him and sees that his eyes are nearly as red as hers must be.

People get up to say things. Emma is only half listening. _Now_ everyone comes together to support Killian, when it’s too late to do any good. Regina gets up to speak and says something about the price of magic and Killian paying it so no one else would have to and being a hero and it’s all true, and all right, and all too little, and all too late.

Other people stand to speak as well. A slightly drunk Smee recites "O Captain My Captain." How he knew a Walt Whitman poem is anyone's guess. Belle says something about how far he came from the villain he was to the hero he became. 

David gets up finally. “I didn’t always see eye to eye with Killian,” he says, “a fact that I made _abundantly_ clear to him on more than one occasion. To be completely fair, he was a villain when I first met him, something he never denied. And I had…” he pauses, running a hand roughly across his face, “I had the privilege of watching him fight to be a better man. When he helped bring Henry home from Neverland, I told him that he was doing it for Emma. And I was right, but I was wrong in thinking that was a problem. Everything I do is for my family and everything Killian does… did,” he corrects himself, “is for my family too. And people can talk about Killian, the hero who saved the town, and that’s all true, but that’s… that’s not the most important thing, not to me. The most important to me is Killian, my friend…” he takes a steadying breath and tears blur Emma’s vision, “my friend who brought my little girl home to me.” He presses a hand to the monument before returning slowly to his seat.

Emma doesn’t say anything at all. She was never very good with words even in the best of times, and now she doesn’t trust herself to speak without her voice breaking. People get up to lay flowers on the monument and she stands just to one side, tears streaking her face, not ready to say goodbye.

“You know I was cool with you and Mom,” Henry whispers, too quietly for most of the gathered mourners to hear. “You were supposed to be part of the family.” And Emma hadn’t realized a broken heart could break even more. _If it can be broken, that means it still works._ If that’s true she’s not sure she wants hers to work.

She sets the middlemist flower he gave her in that beautiful, terrible field on the monument and runs. Even after everything she half expects him to follow her. She doesn’t break down until she reaches the bench by the lake where he found her before.

“You promised!” she screams. “You promised you were a survivor and I believed you! So where are you?! Come back to me,” she plead, her voice breaking. “Please,” she whispers, “Killian, come back to me.”

* * *

 

Emma waits by the bench for as long as she can stand, until she is sure the funeral is over and no one has come to find her. She know she should go back, be there for Henry. She doesn’t want to, but no one is coming to bring her home. She has to do that for herself now.

She would rather keep running, but she returns anyway, standing in the hall just outside of the loft. She can hear voices inside, David and Mary Margret talking quietly. She stops to listen, too used to being on the outside.

“Should we go find her?” David asks. “It’ll be dark soon.”

“I don’t think we can push this,” Mary Margret replies quietly. “I don’t think she is going to be okay on our schedule.”

“I guess not. I just…” he sighs. “I’ve had this horrible thought circling in my mind all day. I keep thinking how I could have been too late, or you could have not woken up. I keep remembering seeing you in that glass coffin, and I keep thinking what if that was the end? What would have happened to me?”

“That’s not the same,” Mary Margret says softly, her tone reassuring.

“Isn’t it?” David asks. “Emma said he didn’t have the curse, that he wasn’t the Dark One when… at the end. How do you think that happened?”

“True Love’s Kiss?” Mary Margret asks. She sounds surprised. Emma takes a shuddering breath that might have become a sob if she weren’t trying to remain quiet.

“Of course,” David says. “I’ve never seen anyone able to make Emma as happy as Killian.” She can hear the sorrow in his voice, grieving for his own loss and for hers. She knows the feeling, knowing how close Henry had become to Killian.

“It’s just… they’ve both loved before…” Mary Margret says hesitantly.

“And I would have loved you no less if I had loved and lost before.”

“Of course not,” Mary Margret agrees. There is a long silence and Emma tries to make up her mind between going in and leaving. “I almost lost you too,” Mary Margret whispers finally, nearly too quiet for Emma to hear. “When I cast the curse to stop Zelena. I’ve been remembering that all day too.”

Emma leaves during the silence that follows. She doesn’t feel like joining them in their grief. She has enough of her own.

She heads to Regina’s next to check on Henry. She can see him from the front walk, sitting at the table with books sprawled in front of him. She can’t see them very well, but she suspects one of them is Henry’s storybook, likely open to the pages with her adventure in the past with Killian. She knows that is where she would look. Robin is seated beside him, holding the newest member of his family in his arms. Regina has Roland on her lap and is clearly trying to get the other two to put away the books to eat dinner. And they all look… happy is very much the wrong word, but like they have each other and that might be enough. She meant to go in, to talk to Henry, to apologize for running off at the funeral, but she can’t. The scene before her looks too much like the life that her too big, too empty house was meant to represent.

She waves a hand, escaping back to the deck of the Jolly Roger. No one will come here and she can watch the ocean. “It’s not a full moon, Killian,” she whispers aloud to the empty ocean. “But I guess it will have to do.”

She heads below when the clouds drift to cover the moon. She means to return Killian’s coat before heading back to the loft, but ends up sitting on the bunk, knees pulled up to her chest, the too big coat wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

“You were wrong,” she says tearfully. “It’s not okay.”

* * *

 

Emma returns to the loft early the next morning. She is out of practice sleeping so she only does it in fits and starts since Killian got rid of the Darkness.

“Emma,” Mary Margret says, with a smile that is only a touch forced. “Do you want eggs?”

“Oh, um, yes,” Emma says, a little taken aback. She didn’t have anyone wanting to cook for her as the Dark One, which is why she spent so much time eating takeout from Granny’s. She could always magically cook her food, but it never seemed to turn out quite right. But right now she needs to pretend everything is normal every bit as much as her mother does.

Mary Margret is reaching for plates over the sink when she frowns. “Why would Henry put his book up here?” she asks, pulling out the Storybook and setting it on the counter.

Emma shrugs.

“Are you coming back to the Sheriff’s station?” David asks. Emma catches the glance between her parents and suspects they decided on this last night.

“I don’t know. I guess.” Something is nagging in the back of her mind. “I don’t know if I can just go back to normal after everything. I don’t know how to do that. Did Henry come back here last night?”

“He went with Regina,” Mary Margret says, clearly a little confused by the non-sequitur.

Emma reaches over and snatches up the book, trying to push down the hope beginning to grow. “I know. I swung by to check on him. He had his book.” She opens it and looks down at the unfamiliar stories inside. “This isn’t his book. This is a new book. This is…” She drops the book on the counter and pulls out her phone and calls Henry.

“Mm?” he mumbles. She had forgotten how early it still is and how people who have not recently been the Dark One, or morning people, who are far creepier, might still be in bed.

“Henry, how would you like to skip school today?”

“’s six in the morning. And school is closed today.” He pauses, his sleep muddled brain catching up. “Why are you eagerly asking me to skip school?” She can’t tell if he is more confused by the ‘eagerly’ or the ‘skip school’ part?

“Because your grandmother found another book.”

“I’ll be right over,” Henry says, suddenly not sounding tired anymore.

* * *

 

By the time Henry arrives with Regina half an hour later, panic has had a chance to set in, and what ifs have a chance to start running through her mind. First of all magic cannot bring back the dead. That is the one solid rule, well that and all magic comes at a price, and Killian is dead and also the price of her magic. Doing anything about it is impossible. And to get her hopes up for anything better is just giving herself a chance to lose him all over again without ever having him back.

And he wanted her to let him go. That thought keeps returning too. She was supposed to let him go and failed once. She can’t…

“Whose book?” Regina asks as soon as she arrives.

“I don’t know. It just turned up in the kitchen cabinet.”

“She means whose stories,” Henry says.

“And what was a book doing in the kitchen cabinet?” Regina asks.

“I don’t know,” Mary Margret says. “I found the first Storybook in the back of my closet. And it appears to be Greek Mythology, although I’m guessing it isn’t the version we know.”

“ _We_ certainly aren’t the versions people think they know,” the Evil Queen points out, pulling up a chair at Snow White’s kitchen island.

“Greek Mythology? That’s great!” Henry says, spinning the book toward him.

“What does this mean?” Regina asks, looking over Henry;s shoulder at the new book.

“The same thing as the first book,” David says.

“It means hope,” Mary Margret says.

“It means you have another book for your collection,” Emma says cautiously.

“It means we can bring back the happy endings,” Henry says. “That’s these books are for. Well, it’s what they are supposed to be for,” he admits, wrinkling his nose, perhaps remembering a less than happily ending version written by Isaac. “I started trying to write Killian’s story yesterday, but the ending wasn’t working and this is why. That’s not the ending.”

“Henry,” Emma says. “It is. I hate it but it is. Magic can’t bring back the dead.”

“As someone who was declared dead that one time, I’d like to argue the point,” Henry says.

“As someone who had their heart crushed once, I’d like to agree with him,” David says with a smile.

“That was a sleeping curse and… yours was… it was a fluke. It wasn’t like either of you were… gone.”

“True love isn’t a fluke. It’s something you fight for,” David says.

“I _did_ fight for it!” Emma says. “And I lost him three times because of it.”

“I know that hurts, and it’s a risk to open yourself up because you _could_ lose him again…” Snow begins.

“You think that’s what this is about? I would fight to the ends of this or any other realm to have _one_ more day with Killian.

“Then what’s the problem?” David asks.

“Because I _can’t!_ I screwed up. I didn’t listen to him. I tried to make him a monster because I couldn’t lose him. He told me to let him go and I didn’t listen the first time.”

“Of _course_ he said to let him go,” David says.

“Do you have any idea how often Charming has told me that I have to let him go?” Mary Margret points out. “It’s getting ridiculous.”

“Exactly. If I could have talked Snow out of splitting her heart I would have.”

“You were a little busy being dead,” Regina points out archly.

“True,” David admits. “But it was too big of a risk. I would have told her not to do it. Not because I don’t want to come back, but because I wouldn’t have wanted her to risk her life like that.”

“I told him I didn’t love him for the same reason," Mary Margret agrees.

“That method wouldn’t have worked with the heart splitting. I think we were past the point of believing that.”

“But that’s you,” Emma says. “How do you know Killian would…?”

“He will,” David says.

“How would you know?”

“Because he is ridiculously in love with you,” he says matter of factly.

“I don’t think you are allowed to make fun of how ridiculous other people are in love, _Prince Charming_ ,” she says, but manages a smile.

“You could ask him,” Henry suggests. Emma stares at him. It is the most practical, impossible suggestion she has ever heard.

“We aren’t doing another séance,” Regina says with finality.

“Of course not, but Merida owes him her life.”

“He did talk me out of killing her,” Emma agrees. “But I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“Once you returned everyone’s memories, people remembered what happened in Camelot. I kinda wanted to do something useful so I started doing the Author thing and getting an idea of what happened to different people in Camelot so I could write it. Merida told me that she has this mead that lets a person talk to people in the Underworld.”

“You weren’t going to mention this before?” Emma asks.

“I was gonna play it by ear,” Henry says, wrinkling his nose. “I didn’t want to waste it on saying goodbye if we could use it for something more useful.”

“You did _not_ know there was a chance,” Emma says. She realizes she just admitted that there _is_ a chance and it feels good. “You were grieving yesterday too.”

“Yeah, but I come from an optimistic family. I didn’t _think_ there was anything we could do, but I wasn’t ready to rule it out entirely.”

“Okay. Let’s ask Killian if he wants to come home. Maybe you should talk to Merida,” she suggests to Henry. “Between trying to kill her and using her as a puppet, I doubt she wants to talk to me.”

Henry shrugs. “She’s not gonna give you any trouble about it. She’s been cursed too. And she seemed to believe you are free of the curse. I can talk to her if you want, but I need some time to study the book. Because it’s great to know he wants to come home and everything, but none of the rest of us need a magical potion to tell us he wants to be with you. Trust an Author to know a thing or two about happy endings.”

“An Author had Dad stab Killian,” Emma objects.

“Well, he wasn’t a very good Author,” Henry says with a grin. “I tried to make that ending work and it just doesn’t. But like I was saying, you knowing what the rest of us can figure out without having a drink is nice, but what we really need is a plan. And I know a thing or two about operations to bring back happy endings. Operation Light Captain Swan is back on.”

“I thought it was Light Swan, and I thought that was about the house.”

“It was. I changed the name when Killian had the Darkness. He needed to know it was about him too. I mean, it was about getting your happy ending so it was always about him too, but I think he needed the reminder. And the house was just one part of it. This is totally the same operation.”

“Alright,” Regina says. “If Emma goes to get this magical potion or whatever from Merida, and you are studying the new book, what are the rest of us doing?”

“So Henry just says the Operation is on and that’s enough? You’re in?” Emma asks.

“You were in for Mongoose,” Regina points out. “And I haven’t forgotten how much that ended up costing you. Eventually, we are both going to have our happy endings at the same time.”

“You’re all just _in_?” Emma asks again.

“Of course we are,” Mary Margret says. “You’ve made sure the rest of us have out happy ending. We should have been fighting for yours from the beginning.”

Henry nods. “Cool. But right now I need a general idea,” he says, waving the book. “We can reconvene once I’m done reading to come up with an actual plan.”

* * *

“I dinnae expect ye here,” Merida says when Emma arrives at the Camelot camp where, according to Henry, she is solidifying a new alliance with Camelot’s queen by helping get everything organized in the absence of their arrested king. According to David, Guinevere had informed him that he was welcome to keep ‘the former king’, her description, not David’s, locked away as long as he wanted. Merida sounds surprisingly unconcerned by Emma’s presence.

The young warrior by her side, wearing honest to goodness Highlander style blue paint in lieu of a shirt, watches Emma suspiciously and whispers a few words in Merida’s ear.

“She taught me the value o’ mercy once, a fact that did ye a world o’ good Cameron Macintosh,” she replies aloud with a smile. “And I know a thing or two about curses and she’ll be of no threat to us. Today or any other if I’m any judge.”

“Merida, I…”

“Show some respect for the queen,” Macintosh says warningly.

“Would ‘ave saved us all a wee bit o’ trouble if ye’d have had that attitude a bit sooner Macintosh,” she says with a smile. “And as I understand, people show respect differently in Storybrooke than in the Highlands.”

“Look, I’m sorry, about… well… everything,” Emma says.

“Ach. Like I said, I know a thing or two about curses. But that is nae why ye’re here, is it? I see that look in yer eye. That’s the look of a woman fightin’ for her family.”

“You’re right,” Emma says. “Or I hope so. I need to talk to Killian and hear you might have a way.”

“The man who saved my life from… well, from ye, and whose funeral I attended yesterday?”

“Yes, but Henry tells me that won’t be as much of a problem as it looks.”

“I do have somethin’ that might help ye, but I donnae have much left so use it wisely. But if ye don’ mind me sayin’ you donnae look like a woman lookin’ to say goodbye.”

“I’m hoping I won’t have to.”

“Well, best of luck to ye.” Merida pulls a small pouch of liquid out of her sack. “Sprinkle it… on the headstone is what I was told, but as he is nea buried… I guess the monument is as good as anywhere. Your loved one will nea be back for long so make the most of the time. I hope ye find what ye’re lookin’ for.”

“Um, thank you,” Emma says, once again mystified at how everyone appears to be taking her stint as the Dark One in stride.

* * *

 

Emma doesn’t go to the monument. If Killian is going to come back to one place here, it would be the Jolly Roger, and seeing as he died there, it has the added connection.

She pours the mead out on the deck of the ship.

“The Dark One doesn’t get visitors I’m afraid,” a cool voice says.

Emma wheels around to face a man in a perfectly tailored suit leaning calmly against the railing of the Jolly Roger.

“I wasn’t summoning the Dark One,” Emma says fiercely.

“Details,” the man says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I am the guardian of all of the dead who became the price of magic. I find fitting rewards or punishments, depending on their lives. The Dark Ones do not typically end up in my domain. They have some sort of vault, or live in the heads of future Dark Ones, I was never quite clear on which. However, even I cannot count the number of dead who are in my domain because of them. Captain Hook is the first one to reach my domain and he must pay the price as the Dark One.”

“Who even are you?”

“Forgive me. Hades, at your service," he says with a small stiff bow.

“Well, _Hades_ , Killian is not the Dark One,” Emma insists. “He gave that up.”

“I’m sorry. There are rules that I must obey, and justice must be done.”

“At least let me speak to him,” Emma says.

“As I said, I am sorry. But this is part of his punishment.”

“Part?” Emma asks, afraid of the answer.

“I don’t think that one intercepted call counts as suitable punishment for the Dark One,” he says.

“But he isn’t the Dark One,” she say again, almost pleading, almost angry. “He’s not. He gave that up, for me. He died to make sure he wasn’t the Dark One. So at least stop calling him that.”

“Very well, Killian Jones then. Now as much as I would love to stay and argue about names with you, I have a realm to run.”

By the time Hades fades away, Emma isn’t grieving anymore. She is angry, furious at this man, at anyone who would try to take Killian away from her, at anyone who would dare to act like he is or ever should be the Dark One, at herself for having tried to turn him into a Dark one in the first place. But more than anything, at Hades.

She sweeps back into the loft with a wave of her hand. “We’re getting him back," she says, with a certainty she hasn’t felt in a very long time. "Come hell or high water, we are getting him back."


End file.
